The Way It Is
by kaz456
Summary: Two years later. Darry’s about to learn that there’s more to life than what he’s known and the rest of the gang is along for the metaphorical ride.
1. Chapter 1

"All we're saying is you need to have some fun, Curtis." Dennis took a sip of his Coke, wiped some sweat off his forehead, and trained his gaze on me again. "You're always working, man! You gotta live a little!"

"He's right," Larry agreed. "I swear, Curtis, I ain't never seen nobody work as much as you do. I know you gotta provide for your brothers and all, but that don't mean you can't have fun, right?"

I shook my head. "I do have fun. Just not when I have other things to do," I said pointedly. "Like right now. Come on ya'll, it's time to get back to roofin'."

The other guys groaned, but stood up and followed me back to the work site. "See, this is what I'm talkin' bout, Curtis! You're always wantin' to get back to work. Glory, man, take a break!" Dennis yawned and lazily put his helmet on.

Dennis and Larry were good guys, but they were always trying to get me to go out to parties or drinking at bars with them. No matter what I told them, they never seemed to get that I just didn't have the time to do stuff like that. It wasn't an issue of overworking myself, it was simply that I had other things to do than drink myself silly with my co-workers.

"Ya'll bothering Darry again?" Our boss, Gary, asked sharply. Gary was ten years our senior, a strict, firm man who understood why I didn't always go out with the boys. Back when I had first started working for the company, he had pulled me over, and told me he understood about my "situation" at home. Gary's a good boss, someone who thinks of his workers as more than just people under him.

"Nah, Gary, we ain't bothering Darry none. Just trying to get him to loosen up some," Larry said. He grinned and tossed me some work gloves.

"Maybe it isn't Darry who needs loosening up, just you two who need some tightening up. Hell, if you two worked half as hard as Darry does, Lord knows we wouldn't be so behind schedule all the time! Isn't that right, Darry?"

"Yessir," I replied as I started climbing up the ladder and onto the roof.

At around one o'clock we had to stop roofing because it had gotten too hot. Once the sun comes out and it gets real hot outside, the tar starts to stick to your shoes and you can't get any work done. On roofing days we usually start early, around four in the morning and then end at about one. I personally like roofing days, because I can usually be back home before the rest of the gang gets there, which means I can keep at least one lamp from breaking.

I had packed up my tools and supplies and was heading towards my truck when I heard a voice behind me, which I immediately recognized as Gary's.

"Sir?" I asked. To tell the truth, it was the end of the week, I was tired, and I was itchin' to get home.

Gary nodded in acknowledgement. "Curtis, I really meant what I said today. I'm not lying; you really are one of – heck, I'd even venture to say you are the hardest working man we've got here."

"Thank you, sir."

"Just letting you know that if you keep up the hard work, and I know you will, you could have a promotion coming your way soon. I mean, you've been with us for almost three years, Darry, and I've never seen you miss a day or not come in willing and ready to work. That's real admirable. And I know that money's tight over at your house, so if anyone could use this raise, it's you." Even though I didn't like Gary knowing about our family's money problems, I was glad that he didn't mince words. I don't like people who try to hide behind fancy words. I'd rather someone be blunt and say what they mean.

"Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it."

"And I appreciate your hard work, Darry. Keep it up." Gary patted my back and walked away.

As I got in my car, I thought about what he said. Even if I didn't like it, he was right about money. Ever since our parents died money had become an issue in our house. It was because of this that I worked two jobs, and Soda had dropped out of school to work full-time at the DX.

By the time I had gotten home around two, it was pouring rain outside. Tulsa had the craziest weather; one minute it could be over 100 degrees, and the next minute it was raining and storming like crazy.

I turned off the car, walked through the rain and opened the door to our house. We never lock our door, which bothers and amazes some of our neighbors.

I noticed when I walked into the living room that the house was completely quiet. There used to be a time when our house was never quiet, when there would also be some hood lounging around, watching TV, eating food, or just hanging out. That was two years ago, and things have changed now. We still have hoods lounging around, but not as many and not all the time. Today was a Friday afternoon, though, so I could guarantee that in a few hours the house would be full of greasers whoopin' and hollerin'.

I took a quick shower, changed into some clean clothes, and took a piece of chocolate cake, the single thing (besides Two-Bit) that's always in our fridge, no matter what.

I finished the chocolate cake quick reasonably quickly – in our house, food doesn't last long, whether it's in the refrigerator or on the table or a plate – and after washing my dish and fork went to sit down in what the boys had nicknamed as "Superman's chair." I had learned long ago that I couldn't stop Soda or Steve from stretching out across the couch after they were dirty from work, so I had finally gotten all of the gang together one day and told them that they could sit wherever the hell they wanted as long as they left this chair alone. I promised them that if I did catch them sitting in it, I would beat their heads in. And trust me, I wasn't kidding – Two-Bit could tell you that from past experience.

It felt strange to be able to sit down in the quiet living room by myself and see that I had nothing to do. I like to be kept busy, working, so that I don't feel useless. The boys at work are right when they say that I'm not too good at just relaxing. Even though they're my brothers, Ponyboy and Sodapop are nothing like me when it comes to work. And while Soda understands the way I am, Pony has more trouble with it.

I didn't used to be as work-driven as I am now, though. When Ma and Pa died, I was just like any normal 19 year old. But now, it's been three years since their death, and I'm 22, and I've grown up a lot. When you're 19, you don't have a care in the world other than school. You feel inevitable. By the time you get to be my age, you've seen more of the world and you start to realize that it's not all fun and games and fights and booze and broads. There's work, and bills, and food to buy and cook, and more responsibilities.

I've tried telling Sodapop that, but he just doesn't get it. Soda knows about the responsibilities of life, but he still sees it as one big party. That could be 'cuz he's only 18, but it's more likely because he's just Soda. When you're around him you're bound to have a good time, whether you plan to or not.

I must have drifted off on the chair, because the next thing I heard was the TV blasting, pots clanging, and voices yelling. My head immediately started pounding.

Opening my eyes, I saw Two-Bit lounged across the couch, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, watching some TV show.

"Put that thing out," I told him immediately. He glanced over, surprised to see me up, and a grin spread over his face.

"Well, lookee here!" He shouted. "Superman's up! Just in time!"

"Just in time for what?" I grabbed his cigarette and ground it into the ashtray.

He continued talking, unfazed. "Why, just in time for the party at Shepard's!"

"Are ya comin, Darry?" Steve yelled from the bathroom. The bathroom door was open, so I could see Steve positioned in front of the mirror, combing some more grease into his hair.

I didn't answer him. Instead I got up from the chair, went to the bathroom, pushed him out of the way, and got myself two Tylenols.

"It's gonna be a good one," Steve told me excitedly. Ever since he and Evie had broken up, he had started looking forward to every party as a chance to hook up with a girl. The Socs hadn't been bothering Greasers lately, so the energy Steve once would have put into fighting now went into finding himself new girls every week. Not to say that there wouldn't be fighting at this party. It was pretty much a given that there would be some fight at any Shepard party.

I got myself a glass of water, downed the medicine, and collapsed onto my chair, rubbing my forehead.

"So, ya gonna come with us?" Two-Bit asked me, not even bothering to move his eyes from the screen.

"Who all's goin?" I asked. Even if I wasn't going, I might as well find out who was.

"Hell, everyone!" Two-Bit grinned like a maniac and took a sip of a beer that I assumed he had gotten from our fridge. It would have been one of the beers that he stocked our fridge with, because it couldn't have been any of us. I choose not to drink, Soda doesn't need any alcohol to get high, and Pony sure as hell had better not be touchin' the stuff, at least not when I'm around to bust him for it.

"Ya'll seen my jacket?" Sodapop shouted from his room.

"Yeah, it's on the couch!" Steve yelled back at him, still preoccupied with his hair.

I massaged my head harder. Our house was small; did they really have to yell that loudly?

Soda came bounding out of his room, headed straight toward to couch. He jumped on Two-Bit, who yelped and fell off the couch, taking Soda with him. The two immediately started wrestling on the floor.

Ponyboy came out of his room and watched the two of them with mild interest before stepping over them so that he could change the TV channel. He glanced over at me.

"You comin, Dar?" He asked me.

I shook my head, a little surprised that Pony was going. While he does attend parties, he doesn't go nearly as much as the other boys. This would have to have been his second party this week. "You're going?"

He nodded.

"He's going because he's got his eye on a chick!" Two-Bit said, laughing. He and Soda had finished wrestling, and he was back to drinking his beer and watching TV.

I looked at Pony to see if it was true, and sure enough, his ears were turning a little bit red. He good-naturedly punched Two-Bit, but didn't say anything.

I wouldn't have been surprised if Two-Bit was right. Ponyboy's sixteen and though he doesn't say much about it to me, I'm sure he's interested in girls by now. And they're interested in him too, because as he's gotten older, he's gotten taller and developed a pretty good build. Plus, though he'd never believe it, he's almost (not exactly, because no one could beat Soda) as good-looking as Soda is.

A year or so ago, I might not have let Ponyboy go to a Shepard party. But things have changed. Now I'm still not so fond of the idea, but I won't stop him.

"Alright ya'll, let's go" Soda said, pulling on his jacket. He patted me on the back as he headed towards the door with Pony on his heels.

"Be home by a reasonable hour," I told him.

"Ain't we always?" He replied with one of his infectious grins. I snorted as I thought of the many times he had been home late and all his excuses. His most recent one had been that he had thought that 2 AM was a reasonable hour. It didn't matter too much either way; it was impossible to get mad at Soda.

"See ya, Darry. Try not to have too much fun," Two-Bit said mock-seriously. He grabbed Steve, who was giving his hair one final touch, and shoved him out the door. He waved once more at me, and then I heard the door slam for the final time.

I could hear them hooting and hollering down the street for a minute or so more, and then it was as quiet as it had been before they had even come.

I closed my eyes and stretched out in the chair. I couldn't think of any other person I knew that would be home on a Friday night, but I'm not like most people. This is the way I am, and personally, I'm fine with it.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: the majority of characters belong to S.E. Hinton.

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**Chapter Two **

I must have been more wiped out than I thought, because I woke up the next morning in the same position that I had been the night before. A glance around showed me that Steve and Two-Bit must have decided to crash at our place after the party last night. Or, more likely, Steve had decided to crash on the couch and Two-Bit had passed out on the floor.

It was 10 AM, and no one else was up, so I went into the kitchen to start cooking up some breakfast. We were all out of eggs, which meant that we'd be having pancakes and bacon instead.

I had just started putting the food on different plates when Ponyboy sleepily walked in from the porch outside. I figured he must've been watching another sunrise. He blearily rubbed his eyes and sat down at the table.

"Mornin'," I told him.

He nodded and mumbled a quiet, "G'morning." As he's gotten older Ponyboy's started talking more, but at the same time it seems like he and I talk less than ever. Ponyboy and I have a pretty strange relationship. We don't fight too much anymore, but that's mainly because we don't talk to each other too much either, other than me telling him to make sure to do his chores and homework and him saying that he will. Usually when we do talk, Soda's in the room. Soda's got no problem with telling me that he thinks that Pony and I should talk more, but Soda forgets two things: first, that Ponyboy and I aren't like him, and second, that even though he's eighteen, he's still my kid brother and it's me who's supposed to be tellin' him what to do.

"Good party last night?" I offered him a plate.

"Yeah." He accepted the plate and dug into his food. I brought my plate over and sat opposite him.

He swallowed some bacon and looked up at me. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah." I poured some syrup on my pancakes and stuffed a bite in my mouth.

We were both quiet for a while. Not too surprising.

"I, uh…I've been thinking…" Ponyboy started tentatively, breaking the silence.

"About what?"

"'Bout getting a job." He abruptly looked me straight in the eyes.

My first instinct was to tell him no. No way, no how, and he'd better quit his wishin' and get back to studyin'.

"Why?" I asked calmly. I learned a long time ago that it's better to keep calm and have a blank face. It throws people off, unnerves them.

"'Cuz I want to."

"Why do you want to?"

"The money. I wanna help you and Soda out. Ya'll have been payin' for me for the past four years. It ain't fair that I'm not helping out one bit."

I ate another piece of bacon, took a sip of chocolate milk. Pony was itchin' for me to say something, I knew, and it was buggin' him that I was taking so long.

"C'mon, Darry," he pleaded. I held up one finger to stop him, and finished chewing the pancake in my mouth. After a moment or two, I swallowed.

"Well, can I?" he asked impatiently.

"No."

He obviously hadn't been expecting me to deny him. "What? Why not?"

"Ponyboy, you've got more important things to concentrate on. How in the world are you gonna find time to work in between school and track and homework and all your chores? You just leave the workin' to Sodapop and me."

"I can handle it!" Ponyboy persisted. "I'm sixteen years old, Darry, I ain't a baby anymore! I can handle it, I swear!"

I finished my food and dumped my empty dish in the sink. "Well, then, start handling this, because I'm not giving you permission so you won't be working anytime soon."

"But-"

"Ponyboy, I don't want to hear any more of this. Unless you count doing your chores here, you ain't workin' nowhere, and that's the end of this. Understand?" I didn't wait for him to answer. "I'm going out to the store to pick up some stuff. Tell your brother, if he ever wakes up."

Ponyboy didn't say anything. I saw him glaring at his plate and swearing under his breath as I walked out the door and into the old truck.

Sometimes that kid just doesn't use his head. There was no way that Pony could handle everything if he got a job, unless he was planning on cutting something out of his life. And what exactly did he have to get rid of? Not school, and I doubt he'll get rid of spending time socializin', and he sure as shootin' isn't going to be quitting the track team.

To be real honest with ya, there are times when I don't mind being the bad guy in Pony's mind, times when I was pretty darn sure that he'd be thanking me when he was older. This was one of those times.

I pulled into the store parking lot in about ten minutes and was walking into the store a moment later. Grocery shopping isn't exactly how I get my kicks, but I'm the only one in the house who can do it decently. Last time I told Steve and Two-Bit to go buy us some food, they came back with two six-packs of beer, some Pepsi, and enough Rice-A-Roni to last us for a year. We're still eating it now, and you better believe that they haven't done the shopping since.

The good thing was that it was reasonably early on a Saturday morning, and most of the people who live in our neighborhood have better things to spend their Saturdays doing than shopping. Since the store was empty, I was able to pick up the things I needed and get to the cashier quickly.

The girl working the cashier totaled up the totals for the food I bought. "That'll be $6.78," she said, sounding bored. I didn't blame her. She sure didn't seem to have a very exciting job, but maybe I shouldn't be talking.

I handed her the money, and as she took it from me she gasped and dropped the ten dollar bill on the counter. "Darry, is that you? Well, that's just something! I won't lie, I never thought I'd see you again!"

It took me a little while, but finally I was able to match her somewhat familiar face with a name, and when I did, I was a little surprised. "Penny. Penny Jackson."

"Yes indeed!" She smiled broadly, the smile that had made her prom queen and desire of every guy at our high school. When I saw her flash that smile, I wondered how she had ended up here, working as a cashier in the local grocery store.

It was almost like she read my mind, because her smile faded a little as she glanced down at her store uniform. "Things change, I s'pose."

Then I saw her look me over, and I figured then that she was thinking about how back then I had gotten a football scholarship to the University of Oklahoma and wondering what I was still doing around here. "Yeah, they do."

She picked up the ten dollars that she had dropped and handed me my change. As our hands made contact, she smiled at me again. "Tell you what, Darry; now that I know you're around, we are going to have to have lunch together some time."

I didn't see a point in telling her that I would probably be too busy to be able to, so I just shrugged. "That's fine with me."

"Good." Her eyes twinkled, and for a minute she looked almost exactly the same way she had in high school. "I do believe I still have your number, unless it's changed?"

We both looked away at that question, and I answered it quickly before the past could be dredged up. "Still the same."

She smiled warmly, and the slight tension faded away. "Good, that's good. Well, I hope I'll talk to you soon, Darry. Have a good one."

"You too, Penny," I told her as I walked out of the store, and I really meant it.

I thought about it on the way home. Penny was a sweet girl, definitely not your average broad. But still, I was having some reservations about the possibility of going out to lunch with her. I didn't know if I was willing to do that. Penny was a big reminder for me of my past, and I didn't know if I wanted that. If there was one thing that my mom taught me well, it was to move on with life and never look back. She and I were a lot alike in that respect.

The truck was low on gas, I noticed. I would have to remember to ask Sodapop to fill it up. Since he works full time at the DX, he gets a discount on gas.

I didn't have to keep that in mind for long, because the first thing I noticed when I walked into the house – besides the television blasting and the shower running – was Soda, sitting on the sofa with his feet propped up on the table, eating a slice of chocolate cake. Two-Bit was nowhere, which meant that he had probably gone back to his own house after getting up.

As I walked past him I shoved his feet off the table. He grinned at me in typical Soda – fashion. "Hey Dar, what's shakin'?"

"You, if you spill any crumbs on the couch," I warned. He carelessly picked up his plate and took it to the kitchen.

"Fill up the gas the next time you go to work, alright?"

"Gotcha," he said through a mouthful of cake. "Say, Darry, hand me the milk, willya?"

I gave him the milk and a glass, and he sloppily poured the milk into the cup before shoving the carton back in my direction.

"Whatcha plannin' for today?" I asked, sitting down at the table across from him. It struck me that just a little while earlier, Ponyboy and I had been sitting in these exact positions. At that time, the atmosphere had been tense and not nearly as relaxed as it was now. I've always had a better relationship with Soda, partly because we're closer in age and partly because he's Sodapop.

"Me and Stevie are taking out some broads we picked up last night." He ran a hand through his hair (which didn't contain nearly as much grease as it would have two years ago – somehow, the whole greaser and soc thing had begun to fade out awhile ago and had never come back. While there were still the differences between the east and west sides, the titles "Soc" and "Greaser" weren't tossed around nearly as much as they once had been.) and grinned widely at me. "I'm tellin' ya, Dar, these ones are somethin' special."

I was glad to see Sodapop's love life working out for once. It seemed that, even for all his good looks and charm, he could never find himself the right girl. I hoped this one stuck. "Well, ya'll have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Shoot if we did that then we wouldn't have nothin' to do!" I couldn't help but crack a grin at that one. But what he said reminded me of something.

"Hey, Sodapop, you remember Penny Jackson?"

He screwed up his face in concentration, and finally nodded. "Oh, yeah, that real fine chick from school. Yeah, I remember her. Why?"

I got up from the table and leaned against the counter. "I met up with her today at the store."

"Really? That's something. I thought she would've been long gone by now." Sodapop leaned back on the back two legs of his chair and folded his arms thoughtfully.

"Me too."

"Hmm. Hey, didn't you have some sorta fling with her?"

"Yeah, something like that," I answered. I didn't want to go into it. Sodapop must've picked up on it, because he didn't dig any further.

"Well, I wonder what in the almighty universe she's doing here," he concluded. He had barely finished getting the words out when we heard the bathroom door open, signaling that Steve was out of the shower. Sodapop flashed me a crazy grin, and ran off to go jump on Steve. I answered his question anyway.

"So do I."

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End file.
